


Artifice

by InkStainsOnMyHands



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Medically Accurate Terminology, PWP, Public Sex, Smut, Trans Male Character, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 07:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12206727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkStainsOnMyHands/pseuds/InkStainsOnMyHands
Summary: Ryan certainly didn't expect to see this when investigating the abandoned mansion hidden away in the Hollywood Hills. When he peeked through the grime-stained window on the lower floor of the house, he expected to see chipped paint, rotten wood, and the general decay that had been seen on the outside. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of writhing bodies atop lavish, updated furnishings while flamboyantly dressed costumers marveled at their displays.Had he stumbled onto the set of a historical pornography? Everyone, from the passionate couples (threesomes, foursomes,holy fucking shit)to the spectators, obscured their faces with adornments more commonplace during masquerades.This is someFifty Shades of Greyshit right here, what the actual fuck?





	Artifice

**Author's Note:**

> A month I spent on this, and I'm still not happy with the result, but I just wanted to be done with this. 
> 
> Also, there needed to be a trans fic in this fandom at some point, and as your local trans, I decided to write it. Sue me. 
> 
> This is un-betaed, so please let me know if you catch any mistakes! Thanks.

Ryan certainly didn't expect to see _this_ when investigating the abandoned mansion hidden away in the Hollywood Hills. When he peeked through the grime-stained window on the lower floor of the house, he expected to see chipped paint, rotten wood, and the general decay that had been seen on the outside. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of writhing bodies atop lavish, updated furnishings while flamboyantly dressed costumers marveled at their displays.

 

Had he stumbled onto the set of a historical pornography? Everyone, from the passionate couples (threesomes, foursomes, _holy fucking shit_ ) to the spectators, obscured their faces with adornments more commonplace during masquerades.

 

_This is some_ Fifty Shades of Grey _shit right here, what the actual fuck?_

 

Something hard came upon both Ryan's shoulders. It squeezed until a small cry of pain was torn from him. “I think you must be lost, little mouse,” a rough voice hissed in his ear.

 

Before he could register what was happening, he was dragged inside the building.

 

* * *

 

 

Passed the crowds decorated in ball gowns and justacorps, (if they wore anything at all), sat a man on a leather couch. In addition to his mundane dress shirt and slacks, his manner, too, was casual; one leg had been tossed over the other while his elbows rested atop the empty seats beside him. Yet, Ryan was presented to the man as if he were a king.

 

Below his golden mask, the corners of his fox-like mouth turned downward. Hazel eyes hardened, trained not on Ryan, but on the man behind him.

 

“Found this nosey rat outside,” the guard holding Ryan prisoner stated simply.

 

The King straightened his posture and placed both feet squarely on the ground. “Forget what you've seen of this man’s face,” he commanded of the spectators that had gathered around them; silent nods accompanied the demand. “Take his things and put them in my office, and while you're there, grab me a spare mask - the red one. We respect everyone's privacy here.”

 

Realization hit Ryan with the force of a lightning bolt, leaving shocks of hot anxiety to cascade over his skin. As the hooded guard tore the camera bag from his shoulder, Ryan shouted, “Yo, wait, hold on, I'm not - I don't want to join this freaky sex cult, okay? Just gimme back my bag, and I'll be on my way.”

 

A deep, rich laugh reverberated throughout the room; its musical quality sent warm flutters to Ryan's tummy.

 

“We’re not going to try to initiate you,” the King chuckled. “But, we can't let you leave until we know we can trust you. Then, and only then, will we give you your bag back.” With that pronouncement, the guard scurried up the large ballroom staircase beside Ryan.

 

Irritation clenched Ryan's chest. “Or, I can just leave and call the cops. My equipment is super expensive, by the way, so you're looking at grand larceny!”

 

The King’s eyes widened slightly. His mouth stretched into a smirk as he leaned forward, resting his elbows over his thighs. (Ryan could hear a small bubble of laughter burst from behind him.) “You could try, sure, but I've got a hunch that won't work.”

 

Ryan pursed his lips. This stranger might have been bluffing; he could just contact the authorities to retrieve his things.

 

Then again…

 

If he was telling the truth, as such seemed likely, then what was the harm in staying, closing his eyes for a little while, and sneaking in a nap before heading home?

 

The guard returned, red mask in hand. He handed the veil to Ryan with some reluctance, and with the same hesitation, the shorter man took it from him. _Fine_ , he placed the adornment over his face. _If this dude wants to play this game, I’ll play._

 

“Now, come here, sit with me,” the King commanded.

 

Why the hell not? He had nowhere else to go. Ryan made himself comfortable next to the King, who inched closer until their outer thighs touched. “Is this okay?” he asked with a hushed whisper.

 

Ryan shrugged. “It's your party.”

 

* * *

 

 

For the next several minutes, Ryan attempted to distract himself from the _festivities_. Instead of focusing on the bare, taut, twisting bodies surrounding him, he counted polished floorboards, traced the pristine lines on the wallpaper, and closed his eyes. None of it worked.

 

It was impossible not to soak in the images and sounds ravaging his eyes and ears. Perfect bodies met over and over again, creating an erotic symphony of skin slapping against skin. Sighs of pleasure fell obscenely from cherry mouths, adding to the atmosphere of utter hedonism.The creative among them used hands, tongues and mouths to bring their partners to a heightened state of bliss. Men with women, women with women, men with men, they were all caught in a tide of sin, threatening to pull Ryan in with them.

 

With the partygoers’ cries of passion crescendoing, the air became uncomfortably warm. Sweat gathered underneath Ryan's collar as heat pooled in his lower belly. He shifted in an attempt to ignore the throbbing at his center.

 

“Turned on, are you?”

 

Ryan jumped at the whisper. He whipped his head to face the King, whose amused grin was somehow soft, comforting, and yet so very irritating.

 

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘uncomfortable’,” Ryan quipped back with a small bark.

 

The King nodded. “Understandable,” he said beneath his breath. The deep tenor of his voice struck Ryan’s chest, causing his heart to skip a beat. “Confronting our animalistic nature can be intimidating, especially when we’ve been raised to think this is shameful.”

 

_Ugh._ Ryan rolled his eyes; pretentious fuckboys were the worst. “I don’t think sex is shameful, I just have the decency to _this_ in private.”

 

The King chuckled, and Ryan tried to temper down the roiling cauldron in his belly. “We were doing this in private, no one invited you to sneak around my house, did they?”

 

Ryan, with some chagrin, had to concede the point. Despite himself, his mouth curved into a nervous grin. “True,” he said with a small giggle.

 

The King’s smirk melted into a genuine smile. “That's such a cute laugh, I love it,” he cooed.

 

Blood rushed to Ryan’s cheeks. “U-uh, t-thanks?”

 

A moment of silence hung between them before the King softly asked, “Can I put my arm around you?”

 

Ryan swallowed; that was certainly a _leading_ request, but if it endeared himself to this stranger, and thus lead to recovering his bag more quickly, he was willing to partake in the affection. “Um, o-okay, sure.”

 

“I won't do anything without your explicit consent,” The King replied. “Promise.”

 

Just as Ryan made a wordless vocalization of acknowledgment, a weight settled around his neck. The arm draped over Ryan's shoulders provided an odd sense of safety. It was a strange sensation, entirely foreign for someone, such as he, who lived in a constant state of fear. Cloaked in this protection, Ryan found his guard dropping dangerously.

 

Ryan let out a breath he hadn’t known he held. Without thought, his thighs spread, relieving some of the tension that had grown within the last few seconds.

 

“You can touch yourself, if you'd like,” the King murmured near the sensitive shell of Ryan’s ear; the shivers begotten by the simple sentence went straight to his groin. “I'm sure no one will mind.”

 

The words were like a drug; Ryan felt so high, uninhibited. Mind fogged by temptation, his hand dropped near the zipper of his jeans. Yet, he curled his fingers, unable to continue. “I-I can't,” he stuttered.

 

The King nodded. “It's alright,” he soothed.

 

This man was oddly understanding (more so than any lover Ryan’s ever had, though he quickly dispelled the thought).

 

For a heartbeat, the King said nothing else. Instead, he rubbed soothing circles into the meat of Ryan's upper arm.Each motion over his skin drained him of his anxiety until he felt nothing but the mounting lust beneath his belly. With a startling clarity, the smaller man realized he wanted more than what the innocent ministrations could provide.

 

As the massage dissolved into a light touch, the King asked, “Can I kiss your neck?”

 

Ryan nodded in answer despite his earlier qualms. It was as if his rationality were slipping away like grains of sand falling between his open fingers. How did this King manage to seduce him with nothing more than kind words and soft actions?

 

(Well, the porno around him certainly helped.)

 

The King did not hesitate to turn towards Ryan, shifting so that he could crane his head forward and plant his lips against the delicate column of his throat. To Ryan’s delight, this stranger had some experience; he knew exactly where to kiss, nip and suckle to produce the soft keens that escaped Ryan’s throat. Each ministration was delivered with a great amount of patience, giving Ryan enough time to just _feel_ the exhale of his breath, the scratch of his stubble, and the power behind his teeth. His eyes fell closed, so he could concentrate on the sensations that washed over him.

 

Before too long, the stranger pulled away, much to Ryan's dismay. Though no sooner had the King locked eyes with Ryan did the shorter man feel trapped within his magnetic gaze, soothing his mourning. The stranger’s hazel stare roamed over his face, tracing the outline of his cheeks, nose and mouth so intensely he felt as if fingertips had accompanied the journey.

 

Ryan took advantage of the reprieve. He, too, inspected what he could of his would-be lover. His mind attempted to paint a picture of what was hidden above a sculpted jaw, aquiline nose and masculine smile.

 

After another heartbeat of silence between them, the King gently cupped Ryan’s cheek before whispering, “I want to kiss you.”

 

Ryan nodded. He leaned forward to meet the King halfway, helpless against the gravity of this man.

 

In spite of the strangeness of their situation, the King took his time to ease himself into Ryan's mouth. The kiss started nearly chaste, with no hurry to find a means to an end. No, the stranger seemingly had every intention to explore Ryan, taking every precious second he could to linger upon his lips.

 

Ryan had no objections and followed his lead gladly. His hands found their way into the man’s dishwater blonde locks to keep him close.

 

Under his palm he felt the string that kept his disguise over his face, and Ryan was tempted to tear it away. A desperation filled his chest; he needed to know who had made him forget his insecurities to the point where he was mad with a desire to -

 

Suddenly, Ryan didn't know what he wanted. Did he truly want to have sex? Right here? Where anyone could see his scars or lack of a “male appendage”? Did this king even know what he was getting into?

 

Ryan pulled away. “Wait,” he murmured against his lover’s lips. “There's something you have to know about me.”

 

The King nodded. “I'm listening.”

 

Apprehension clamped Ryan's lips shut, causing frustration, like a pressure behind his teeth, to build. Normally, he didn't have any trouble telling his potential partners about his body. His attitude had always been that if they had a problem with it, that was their personal issue. But, he wanted to please this stranger for a reason he could not yet fathom, and the thought that his identity could turn him off was nearly unbearable.

 

Slowly and unsure, Ryan shared, “You might be somewhat disappointed when you take off my clothes.”

 

“I very much doubt that,” The King said around a delighted grin. “But, we’ll just have to take off your clothes to find out, won't we?”

 

The faintest sense of dread filled the empty space between Ryan's heart and lungs. But, even as the King’s deft fingers pulled at the zipper of his hoodie, Ryan couldn't find it in himself to stop him. He craved this stranger so badly, be it because of the atmosphere, his recent dry spell,  or the man’s gentle seduction. It didn't matter. In between molten kisses, piece after piece of clothing was shed from their bodies until they were left as bare as the rest if the partygoers.

 

The King did not falter. No attention was called to Ryan's form, other than the comment, “God, you're gorgeous,” before he dove to capture his lips once more.

 

As the King released himself from their shared affection, he patted Ryan's outer thigh. “I want you to sit over my lap,” he murmured.

 

Without question, Ryan acquiesced; he moved to straddle the man’s long, long legs.As he looked down, he caught a glimpse of the stranger’s cock. It was enormous! The length and girth rivaled that of most adult entertainers. A small part of him wondered if the King was the defacto leader merely due to size.

 

The King let out a tiny laugh. Ryan tore his eyes away from the man’s length and glanced back up into his hazel gaze.

 

“Don't worry,” he said, tone filled with a mild amusement. “I'll make sure you're nice and ready for me. I won't hurt you.”

 

Ryan wasn't quite sure why such a sincere promise spurred him on so, but the deep dark lust within his core flared anew. His yearning only grew for this stranger. “Then, get on with it,” he hissed, only for the sound to dissolve into a moan the moment the man’s fingertips found their way to the seam of his legs.  

 

The King circled his clit slowly, carefully, and with the lightest of strokes. Ryan whimpered; the shorter man canted his hips towards the touch, only for the stranger to pull away and tease the folds guarding his entrance. There was just enough pressure to feel good, but not nearly enough to offer some gratification. After several heartbeats of the King’s fingers trailing everywhere except for where Ryan wanted them, the shorter man growled in warning.

 

That did the trick. With no further preamble, the King plunged his forefinger inside his cunt. Ryan gasped at the intrusion, though, with some surprise, not out of pain. No, this would be the first time something, anything, would enter him without causing some sort of discomfort. While the wriggling appendage, on its own, did little to satisfy, it was still a welcome sensation.  
  
Then, the stranger crooked his finger over that _one spot,_ sending a shockwave to his nervous system. Ryan cried out; a current of electric bliss hummed just beneath the surface of his skin. Mindlessly, he moved against the King’s hand to revel in the sensation of his palm against the bundle of nerves above his cavern and the pressure upon his g-spot.   

 

“Please, please, please,” Ryan babbled. “I need you to fuck me.”

 

The King hummed. After a few more thrusts of his forefinger, he concluded, “I think you might be wet enough for me.” He punctuated the statement with the sloppy noises Ryan’s hole made around his intrusion.

 

_God_ , Ryan had never been that wet before in his life, had never thought it possible to be so turned on.

 

With a snap of his fingers, the stranger summoned a dressed guard holding a condom. As the King took the foil package from the other man, the shyness that had inexplicably receded from Ryan’s consciousness crashed over him. He felt himself shrink away, using his forearms to guard his chest.

 

“Hey,” the King called, bringing Ryan's attention back onto his face. “Just look at me. You're safe here.”

 

That's when Ryan realized, with a small gasp, why such a strong desire had manifested inside him: he felt safe. For the first time in his life, this stranger made him feel secure with himself and his surroundings. The shadows that plagued his mind were no longer welcome in the presence of this alluring man.  

 

Ryan nodded. With one final nod in return, the stranger rolled the condom over his cock.

 

“Now, come on, sink down on me. I'm going to let you set the pace,” the King proclaimed with a hushed voice. “If that's what you want, of course.”

 

A small chuckle rumbled passed Ryan's lips; there was no way he could not want it. He positioned himself over the other man and, slowly, sheathed the massive prick inside his moist cavern. Once again, though his pussy stretched to accommodate the stranger, he felt little discomfort. In fact, the heavy weight of his cock pressed against all the buttons that made Ryan tingle in the best ways.

 

Taking little time to adjust, Ryan rocked. His movements were somewhat awkward due to their position on the couch, but that seemed to be a strategic plan on the King’s part. It didn't take much effort for Ryan to pull the man into the deepest parts of himself and stimulate every single nerve ending within.

 

Gasps and moans tumbled out if his mouth with an ease he was unfamiliar with. _God_ , with each undulation, Ryan felt so fucking filthy, good and right. He just hoped the man beneath him felt the same.

 

That thought in mind, Ryan leaned forward to wrap his arms around the King’s neck. He placed his forehead against the crook of his lover’s shoulder. Ryan relished the closeness, which only added to the thrill of this unseemly act.

 

Faster and faster his ministrations become as he inched closer and closer to his climax. As Ryan’s hips bounced, his cunt constricted around the other man. The King groaned in his ear. One of the man’s large hands wandered to Ryan's lower back while the other gripped his hip. He aided Ryan's movements, keeping him and their wonderful rhythm steady.

 

“God,” The King grunted. “You feel so good around me, handsome. Want to feel you come on my cock.”

 

Though the statement had no command of power, it summoned the most intense orgasm Ryan had ever had. His finger and toes curled as the dam broke; its waters crashed over him, drowning him in _feeling_. Fire and ice traveled through his veins. Even after several moments, aftershocks rocked his body and left him boneless against his new lover.

 

Distantly, he heard the King growl and felt his cock twitch inside of him.

 

Ryan laughed breathlessly, unable to do much else.

 

* * *

 

 

Eventually, the festivities died down.

 

After the last of the guests left the manor, the King and Ryan, newly dressed, headed up the stairs and into the office situated down the hall.

 

The King handed Ryan his camera bag, but not before reaching into the drawer of an ornate wooden desk and retrieving a golden envelope.

 

“This will let you in next month,” the King said as he handed Ryan, what he assumed was, an invitation. “You're a special guest of honor.”

 

Ryan's chest lurched. His fingers delicately traced the corners of the envelope. He wanted to accept the invitation, if only to see the King again, to feel the safety of his arms, to experience nothing but pleasure during sex. But, Ryan didn't know how he would feel seeing the man he wanted to covet so much sleep with another so casually. Farbeit from an indiscretion, it would still hurt.

 

Ryan removed his ball mask. Along with the disguise, he handed the invitation back to the King. “I can't.”

 

The King made no motion to take what was in Ryan's hands, though a dark cloud hung over his expression. “Was there something I did wrong? I'm sorry if -”  

 

“No,” Ryan interrupted hastily. “No, no, you were great. Not gonna lie, probably the best sex I've ever had. It's just, I'm a one-person dude, and I think - okay, this is going to sound nuts but - you made feel good about myself, and because of that, I think I'm starting to like you. I really don't think I could handle seeing you be with other people, which is weird since we aren't dating or anything -”

 

The King chuckled, interrupting Ryan's tirade ( _thank god_ ). “Ryan, it’s okay, I get it.”

 

Unease froze Ryan in place. “How - how do you know my name?”  

 

Silently, the King placed his thumbs underneath his mask and pushed it up above his face. The reveal sent a chill down Ryan’s spine.

 

Shane Madej, the head of one of his corporate sponsors, stood before him with a sheepish grin.

 

_Shit!_ Ryan internally cursed. He, essentially, just fucked his boss - a man who was worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

 

“I’m sorry, Ryan, I had no intention of sleeping with you, at least, not like this. I would have revealed myself sooner if my privacy wasn’t so important,” Shane explained, voice soft and gentle. “But, I do like you, and if you’re looking for something more exclusive, and you’re not absolutely pissed at me, then I’d love to have coffee with you some time.”

 

Ryan could only gape.

 

* * *

 

The next month, Ryan arrived at the manor alongside Shane, wearing a matching mask.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos validate my sad existence. Thanks!


End file.
